The Trouble with Brothers
by Sir Heroden
Summary: One's heart is difficult to ignore. Peter secretly invites Ender back to Earth in an attempt to make some sort of peace. Are the two of them truly just a war-weary admiral and a calculating, blood thirsty statesman? Could they just simply be brothers? One-shot. Angst. Analysis of Characters.


**Disclaimer:**** All characters belong to Orson Card.**

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**The Trouble with Brothers**

The young man of sixteen stared out at the magnificent city below. His temporary office was at the top of one of the tallest buildings in a few hundred kilometres and offered a great view.

It was just a single city in the world that now belonged to him in all but name.

He deserved it too. After all, he had saved humanity with his superior thinking and the fearless, daring actions that only a few could have. It had taken many months of careful planning and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The war that threatened to emerge after the destruction of the buggers was his chance to shine, to win the hearts of all humans and seize power.

He chuckled to himself and considered how ironic it was that a child grown up thirsty for violence would prevent a vicious war possibly spanning across decades.

The Locke Treaty was a masterstroke indeed. Valentine had certainly helped, but the plan was his and that's what counted. He had bent her to his will, just like the many politicians that had once stood in his way. Now, the world knelt at his feet and once powerful politicians couldn't help but fear him and admire him for his youth.

Now was the time for the rise of a new generation of leaders, fearless ones, but most importantly, ones that would obey him without question. The old Hegemon was nothing but a paper tiger- a foolish puppet whose strings were being pulled by his council and younger attendants. Forcing the man to retire surprisingly easy, but that taking his place formally would be much harder. Some groups would refuse to be ruled by a mere teenager, there were going to be huge pockets of resistance when Locke's true identity was publicly revealed.

As for the politicians that challenged his rule. Well, he had put them in their place one by one, and others soon fell into line. Those that did fit into the roles he had planned for them were eliminated quickly. All the citizens of Earth would bow to him now- their saviour and leader.

Everything that he had ever dreamt of owning was now his, but hiding under the sweet thrill of victory was a deep, bitter pit of remorse.

Where had it suddenly come from? The cunning, young man wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the departure of his sister, the one person whose loyalty he was absolutely sure of. She would follow him out of love, no matter what.

But she had abandoned him, left him for his younger brother.

It didn't sit well with him.

Valentine had threatened him with those videos of hers- of him murdering and taking pleasure in it. The world was his to conquer, but Peter knew that one wrong move, one little mistake could bring everything crashing down. So, he gave her what she wanted.

As for Andrew? Well, his brother was untouchable now. He was the military hero of mankind, and if he didn't want to return to fight for him, Peter didn't dare challenge that. The population may be loyal to him, but that was based largely on the relationships he shared with his remarkable family. Any sign of conflict between him and them could bring doubt, and eventually a rebellion.

That was why he had invited his brother to return to earth one last time, to make sure that the young admiral and soon-to-be governor of a brand new colony would not do anything to jeopardize his ultimate rise to power.

The informal leader of Earth swished his huge chair around and sat down, continuing to gaze at the morning sky awash with shades of orange and pink.

He had always been merciless, had never felt remorse upon seeing death or destruction, but his siblings were wrong in thinking that he enjoyed killing. No, just because one didn't resent something, it didn't mean that that they embraced it. There was always middle ground. He had simply killed to satisfy his hunger for power.

Control and power called to him, just as kindness embraced Valentine. Life wasn't fair, genetic wasn't fair. They couldn't choose what effect their genes had on them, could only be piloted by these desires, for life or death.

Power was all that mattered to him. It always had been.

So what was this sudden urge to see his brother again? His intelligent, cold and calculating mind told him that it was only to cement the final brink of his rule- to make sure that the stupid boy would not cause any problems.

But his traitorous heart thought different.

The young man shook his head. No, love was a weakness. Wasn't it?

He had used so many past leaders' love of family and friends against them. He could not afford to start valuing something as pathetic as family now. Of course not.

But his heart didn't back down.

What was the sudden panic that twisted you heart when you learnt of his sudden illness? It questioned. The enveloping relief you felt when you received news the secret, fast shuttle bearing him had landed safely? Was all of that just strategy?

A buzzer sounded suddenly and blasted him out of his thoughts. The Hegemon started guiltily.

Then, he took a moment to compose himself, smoothed down his spotless suit and pressed a communication tablet on his desk. "What it is?"

"Sir, he has arrived." his computerised secretary droned, "Should I send him in?"

Despite his best effort to stay calm, his heart started to thump so loudly it must have been transmitted into the microphone. _His brother was here._

"Send him in now, I am ready."

His voice shook slightly. He wasn't sure why he'd added the last phrase to a computer.

Could one of his more rebellious underlings use that as leverage against him?

_Stop being so paranoid,_ he told himself. The computer couldn't betray you. That was why he had chosen to get such as a secretary in the first place. Computers were loyal to their programmer, and most importantly, they were easy to get rid of.

The large oak doors swung back on their well-oiled hinges without a sound. A slim figure entered. The room was too long and too dim for him to make out the features of the visitor.

He was about to call for lights when he hesitated. What did his brother look like now? All he could remember was a faint image of a boy with fear in his eyes, cowering before him. But that was years ago, battle school surely would have changed him. He quickly calculated, the boy would be 10…no, 11 now. He would have changed, both physically and emotionally.

He was almost afraid to find out how. Frightened to look into the boy's eyes and see what lay there.

The figure didn't speak, didn't even move forwards. Almost seemed to taunt him by standing where he can't be seen.

Finally the almost-ruler of earth could bare the silence no long, he stood, "Ender?"

The visitor seemed to hesitate for a moment before moving forwards.

At last...

The features graced by light were somewhat like his own, but also so different.

Even at twelve, it was obvious that the boy was going to be something of a looker when older. Dark, silky hair gelled and combed back. Smooth, tanned skin. Piercing blue eyes that spoke of intelligence and veiled emotions sat above a proud nose. The entire picture framed by a straight, powerful jaw.

He was dressed in the formal IF uniform of black and grey, with several gold stripes on the shoulders showing his new status as an admiral. The collar of a white shirt and the knot of a black tie covered his neck. Black laced leather shoes polished until they shone.

It was his brother, and yet it wasn't.

When was the boy he knew so silent, like the lull before a storm? He had planned to decipher what the boy thought from his body language, yet all was too well concealed.

Peter paused. What should he say? How does one speak to the brother they'd resented and dreamt of murdering once?

"Andrew, it's me- Peter. Don't you recognise your own brother?"

For a moment, the two make eye contact and held, each transfixed by the intensity of the other's gaze. Peter was amazed. Was this truly his brother, the one who had never dared to challenge him? Who had always followed his around, pathetically seeking his love and affection; even he had cruelly pushed him away again and again?

"You've changed." He managed a choked laugh, "All these years, Ender. Look at you now- the saviour of earth and mankind."

"We've all changed." His brother whispered, "You never thought I could be any more than a wimp. I never imagined you as any more than a blood thirsty murderer. Yet, I've become a celebrated hero, and you're the respected ruler of the mankind. Fate has a weird sense of humour."

"You still hate me," Peter went straight to the point, "Can we not put all the fights we had behind us, Andrew? Is it still possible for us to make some sort of peace?"

"Make peace?" Ender laughed mockingly, "What would you do with that peace? Use it to bend your people to your will? Use my name as a weapon to get what you want?"

"I've changed; I'm not like that anymore."

"A leopard can't change its spots."

Peter turned and moved to a collection of white velvet couches by the side of the room. _Perhaps it was time to use another method._ He poured himself a glass of white wine, "Do you want a drink?"

Ender sank down into one of the couches. Peter brought over two glasses and sat opposite to him.

"How have you been, Ender?"

Said person picked up a glass with slightly shaking hands and took a carefully sip. "You're getting good at this, Peter. You sound almost concerned."

"I've heard rumours, brother," the Hegemon searched the other boy's face, "rumours that you had gone insane, and was gravely ill or even dead."

A gulp of the wine now, "I _was_ insane and gravely ill. But dead? No. Sorry to disappoint you."

"I didn't mean it like that."

Peter was frustrated. He had stared down soldiers and politicians alike, how could his own brother be a hurdle? It wasn't meant to be like this. Ender was supposed to be like putty in his hands, not an unbendable steel bar.

"I'd like you to come back and live here with me. You and Valentine." He offered.

The admiral shook his head, "Out of the question. I don't want to live my life being your pawn."

"Ender, think about it," He insisted, "Together we could defeat any enemies that challenge our rule."

His brother sank back into the cushions, looking tired and out of place against the white backdrop.

"There are no more enemies," the boy closed his eyes, "you're the only player left in the game."

It wasn't completely true, but very close.

He played another hand. "Mother and Father would be so happy that we can be a family again."

"Don't use our parents as bargaining chips. Where are they? Lying in one of your prisons?"

Despite promising to keep this a peaceful encounter, Peter was at the end of his patience, "How dare you? I'm no murderer!"

Now, his brother stood too, and for a moment they tried to stare each other down. Two pairs of icy blue orbs sucked the warmth from their surroundings.

"You're a murderer," Ender told him calmly, "and you know it!"

"You're no better."

The Hegemon-to-be marched to his desk in quick, angry strides and brought back a thick folder. He held it out to the younger boy. "Here!"

"What is it?" Ender demanded.

"Have a look yourself!"

"Tell me what the hell it is."

He threw the folder at the boy's feet, and pages and pages of names, photographs and nicely recorded notes spilled out. "It's a list of all the people that died in your reckless operations. Look carefully…and tell me how you're any better."

Ender knelt slowly and picked up the nearest page. The face of a smiling young woman beamed up at him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was already dead. A stamp on the page read:

KILLED IN ACTION (DAY 5)

The next page was the same, containing a picture of a smiling Asian man with short hair.

KILLED IN ACTION (DAY 2)

A picture of a middle aged man, looking serious at the camera took the last available image of him.

KILLED IN ACTION (DAY 3)

A young man barely of barely 16. A woman who smiled with a glint in her eye. A girl looking defiant. There were hundreds. And they were all dead.

The room spun. Breathing became difficult. His hands fumbled with his too tight collar. Colours blurred together.

Someone called his name. Nimble fingers unbuttoned the top of his shirt and loosened his tie. Steady hands gripped his shaking shoulders. A hand hovered nearby uncertainly and eventually came to rest on his back.

The feeling was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

The panic attack passed and Ender felt himself looking into another pair of eyes. So much like his own, piercing, cold and merciless. But under all that, there was a tiny spark of warmth that withstood the drenching cold.

"Ender? Are you alright?"

So it was his older brother's hand that rested on his back. That immediately associated with pain, and the realisation made him flinch and jerk away.

The hand on his back disappeared; and the one on his shoulder loosened enough for him to shrug it off.

"Is this all an act?" he gritted out.

"What?" Peter looked unsure for once in his life.

Ender waved an arm around, "This! The whole kind, peaceful leader thing, is it just a façade?"

"Do you think it is?"

The younger boy's face was filled with a kind of desperation. "I don't know. I don't know anymore. I spent a good half of my life seeking your love- hoping against hope that you were capable of some feeling… some kind of remorse."

He swallowed thickly, "But I gave up on that a long time ago. Yet, Valentine hasn't, so maybe you've got some goodness in you, buried somewhere under all that cruelty and deceit."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

Ender clutched the piece of uniform that lay over his heart and groaned. His entire chest hurt.

"I don't know what to think of you anymore." He admitted, "I just know that I will never return to live on Earth."

Peter didn't say anything, didn't even move from where he was sitting now on a couch, but instead drowned the wine in his cup and let out a heavy sigh. Without warning, he threw the cup at the nearest wall. The delicate material smashed on impact and fell to the ground in a twinkling shower of glass.

"Maybe I'm a horrible person and a terrible brother, but I will try to be a good leader." He dropped his head into his hands, "I've changed, Ender. You may not believe me- but I have."

Ender shifted to sit on the ground at his older brother's feet. "Look at us," he whispered, "the youngest admiral ever and the youngest Hegemon ever. Two saviours and leaders of humanity. Thousands would give everything to be in our position, and yet we're both murderers wallowing in our own angst and regret."

The boy stood shakily, "I think I'd like to leave now. Goodbye, Peter."

He started the long desolate walk to the door. His shoes clicked hollowly against cold marble.

Peter didn't dare move. It would probably be the last time he ever saw his brother. Was this the way to conclude the meeting? Perhaps he should offer a proper farewell.

"Ender."

The older boy caught up in a few steps. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and was surprised to find tight muscles under his grip.

"Look…" he started, "for what it's worth, I _am_ sorry. I was always jealous of you because you were created to be a perfect specimen of our family. You had my ruthless ambition, Valentine's ever-compassionate nature and our parent's superior intelligence. I have no doubt that you'll be a fine man one day."

He slipped a ring off his finger, a personalised with his name engraved on it, "Have this, Ender. Don't forget me."

It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat, "I may never be the brother you want, but I'll be here."

Ender hesitated, but took the proffered item and slipped it onto his forefinger. He reached up to pull a slim chain of an army name tag from under his collar over his head and pressed the still-warm metal into his brother's hand.

"Thank you, Peter." He offered the older boy a shaky smile. "Goodbye. Don't forget me either."

He left.

Peter stood numbly near the door for some time after, pondering the many great unsolved mysteries between himself and Ender. Then he slipped the chain over his head and let it rest over his heart.

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**AN:**** Thanks for reading! This story is inspired by the various conversations and changing viewpoints of Peter and Ender on the ideas of love, family and brotherhood. Please favourite and review so that I can improve my writing skills! :)**

**~H.**


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